


Big Yellow Taxi

by colepaldigirl



Series: Two Years Before, When You Were Mine [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colepaldigirl/pseuds/colepaldigirl
Summary: Memories of the World Tour visit to New York haunt Peter as he visits again in 2016. Things are very different beteen him and Jenna, then and now.From a prompt by dreameater - who has been scrutinising the outfits worn on the Tour.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xXdreameaterXx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/gifts).



> This is RPF, please see my usual warning on my bio. No offense attended, all fictional, if it offends don't read.

 

 

**_Big Yellow Taxi_ **

_Late last night_  
_Late, last night I heard the screen door sway,_

 _and a big yellow taxi took my girl away_  
Now, don't it always seem to go  
That you don't know what you've got  
Til its gone….

Lyrics Counting Crows's 2002 cover version

 

 

**New York Comic Con, October 2016**

 

They had a car waiting for him this time. A huge long American thing, all shiny paint and chrome; smiling driver waiting by the open door. Behind it a taxi waited for the next celeb, a yellow one. He felt sadness pool around his heart. The last time he’d ben in one of those…

A figure brushed past him and he saw his wife go ahead of him; she walked so purposefully these days, straight on, no looking around, clipped steps. Peter lingered by the crowd barrier to prolong his stay just a little. He signed some autographs, took some photos, felt the flash go off again and again as his headache developed.

He was exhausted, jet lagged, dead tired, every limb heavy, but the crowd were welcoming and it made their day to see him. He still wanted to do that for them no matter how drained he might feel. No matter how alone. It felt good to be wanted, so he kept going, signing, posing, delaying the inevitable.

Two years ago he’d had some company for this sort of thing. Two years ago a lot was different.

 He was almost at the car but Peter worked down the line he happened to glance back at the door he had just exited and saw the team of security part slightly. There she was. Magic. Think of her and she appears. She was leaving too, getting the yellow cab. How ironic.

Jenna caught his eye and raised one hand and for a moment they watched one another, debated with themselves. He could join her, say hello, or he could leave. Relive the past a little, or continue his path as it was. He glanced at his wife, visible in the back seat of the grey car, inscrutable but watching him, and when he looked back at Jenna her hand had dropped back by her side.

Peter sent a message with his eyes.

_I’m sorry._

A nod. _So am I_ or maybe _it’s ok._ He couldn’t tell at this distance, he wished he could go to her.

Then she turned and started signing, passing time before she took the taxi to wherever her future lay these days, while Peter stepped into the car. He wasn’t part of it.

 

**World Tour, New York City, August 2014.**

It made things simpler, and that was an awful thing to think, but when his wife was back in the UK, specifically London, things went back to normal. Normal being him and Jenna. It had been him and Jenna most of the year, filming, rehearsing, sharing evenings in his apartment; being colleagues, becoming friends, becoming lovers.

That was a recent one, emerging on Peter’s couch late one evening over a bottle of wine and a dog-eared script. They were very slightly tipsy with fatigue and debating just how Clara would say goodbye at the end of this, their first series together. Peter demonstrated an awkward embrace that seemed to make her laugh and cry at the same moment; made her face fall with realisation that she was planning to go for real and that actually maybe that wasn’t what she wanted.

She slid out of his arms and sat staring into her glass, all sadness and a smattering of grief, and he couldn’t stand it.

He kissed her. Immediately apologised, and then to his surprise, she kissed back. The next morning they were late for work, hair still wet from the shower they had shared which took so long.

Then the tour had started and they were both torn from their protected world in Wales and projected out into the real world with their entourage, and in Peter’s case, his family. Suddenly he and Jenna had to back pedal and be just friends after those recent final days of fresh intimacy. It was disorientating and confusing and he couldn’t think straight about what had happened between them. What were they now?

It was a shock, and it was difficult but luckily they were so busy and exhausted they’d managed so far, and now after London, Korea and Sydney they had landed in New York, still pumped up on adrenaline and fame and excited crowds, and Peter’s wife had chosen now to go home for a few days.

Commitments. Work. She’d be back when they hit Mexico.

Peter had wondered if they’d just continue the tour, just finish the job, stay in their roles as buddies until his wife’s return. After all his daughter was still with them even if she did generally entertain herself. It was only a couple of days really, it might make everything easier if they…

On the plane he and Jenna sat together, alone for the first time in a week, flying from Sydney to New York on a separate flight from Elaine heading home and a few rows back from his daughter chatting to a crew member she knew well. The lights went down and their entourage snoozed around them while Jenna pulled a blanket over her and turned in her seat slightly to look at him in the gloom. He could feel her eyes on him so glanced across.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hi,’ he whispered.

‘Missed you.’

He smiled before he realised he had done so, ‘Missed you too.’

‘It’s a pity our schedule’s so tight when we land,’ Jenna said sleepily, ‘I could show you how much…’ he felt one of her hands slip to his thigh and slowly stroke upward and inward.  She bit her lip and raised an eyebrow to make him laugh.

‘Not here,’ he said, looking around carefully. She patted his leg.

‘OK, but later there will be no getting away… no matter where we are if I get you alone… you’re for it mister.’

He made an amused ‘O’ with his mouth and raised his eyebrows as she removed her hand from where he was already growing warm. It was early days and each touch was electricity still to both of them. He wasn’t sure he could stand the flight if she stayed awake and flirtatious, but she seemed as tired as him.

Peter watched as she curled into a tiny impossible ball in the narrow seat and shut down. How did she do that? That sleep anywhere like a cat thing she had developed? On planes, in her trailer, between takes. He tucked the blanket around her and kept one hand on her shoulder as she snoozed. She looked blissful and serene; he still had hours of cramp and backache to go.

They stopped briefly in the hotel, chivvied on by their PAs and Steven as well as people from the receiving end of the events in the city. Peter barely had time to change his suit and fix his hair before the door was being knocked on and he was being rushed down the halls to the lobby.

There were fans everywhere, like nothing he’d ever seen. As they went from city to city they just seemed crazier and more charming and in greater numbers. American did not disappoint and he could see outside the place was heaving with daleks and cybermen and cosplayers dressed as Matt Smith and Alex Kingston. He felt his heart flutter slightly with nerves.

Beyond the glass a big yellow taxi pulled into view and stopped directly outside the doors. Peter’s smile immediately spread across his face to see its size, its stickers, its quintessential New York-ness. This our had been just so… so cool and now he got to cruise around New York in a classic yellow taxi, wearing his shades, pretending he was a rock star.

He took his ray bans from his pocket and slid them on.

‘You’re indoors…’ Jenna giggled and he looked over the top of them at her as she appeared by his side. For someone who had been asleep on the plane and had had twenty minutes to get ready she looked astoundingly beautiful, but he was quite biased.

‘Love the dress,’ he said of the pretty, well fitted outfit with the dark satin background and the floral design. The hem of the skirt was a transparent chiffon and the whole thing clung to her perfectly.

‘Thanks,’ she grinned, ‘You look very cool. Even if you are wearing shades indoors like a prat.’

‘Rockstar.’

‘Prat,’

He laughed and nodded, putting his hands in his pockets briefly before they were suddenly rushed outside and into the back of the taxi.

‘I was going to speak to people,’ he protested.

‘No time,’ the PA said shutting the door on them both and leaving Jenna and Peter alone. He glanced at his watch, granted they were cutting it fine. The driver caught the movement in his mirror.

‘Relax, got thirty minutes to spare, I’ll get you there even if it’s busy, I know all the short cuts, name’s Roddy, nice to meet you.’

‘Hi Roddy,’ Jenna said brightly. Peter slumped back against the seat and slipped down a little, his tiredness still very much bothering him. He could do without a chatty driver he needed to conserve energy. After a moment, he felt Jenna do the same, dropping below the eyeline of the driver and scooting across to her companion.

‘Hello,’ she said playfully. Peter peered at her out of the corner of his eye.

‘Hi,’ he said cautiously.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Tired.’

‘Thought so… want a pick me up? Feels like it’s been forever…’

He rolled his eyes behind his shades, ‘Not really the place…’ he nodded at the driver.

‘He can’t see us from there. We’re too _low_ …’ she emphasised the last word. ‘And he won’t be able to hear… if we’re careful…’ she looked thoughtfully at the partition between cabbie and punter before leaning forward and sliding it shut quickly.

‘There, ‘privacy.’’ She looked at him triumphantly.

‘Jenna for God’s sake. We can’t… fool about…. In the back of a cab.’

‘Why not? How cool would that be? A yellow taxi! In NYC, while we are out being stars!’

Peter chuckled. ‘No,’ he said. Jenna huffed and looked out the window. ‘I’m sure the driver has had worse,’ she commented.

He ignored her and smirked to himself. Then a hand began to wander up his leg and once again he gave her a despairing look. This time however Jenna was not to be put off. He calculated it had been over a week since they had last been together and she was a young, healthy woman. He felt her lean in to his ear, ‘Please,’ she whispered, hand moving higher and reaching his crotch quickly, ‘I’m getting pretty desperate here.’

He laughed but his skin was tingling under her touch. She was beautiful, and he felt elated by celebrity, and they were in the back of an awesome and huge yellow taxi and it just couldn’t get much better than this. He nuzzled her cheek until she turned to him and then kissed her hard and deep.

Something snapped in him when he did that, when he felt her tongue against his and how hot her skin felt. He reached his hands up under her skirt and massaged the soft skin between her thighs, trailed upwards towards her sex, warmth and moisture leading him.

‘Chirst,’ no underwear and the discovery nearly ended him. Jenna gave him a wicked look as though she had planned it all, oh so deliberately and he took revenge by pushing against her with his fingers, rubbing circles and dipping into her as she tried to clamber over him.

‘Jenna, what are you doing?’ he giggled trying to hold her back onto the seat.

‘Want you,’ she moaned and tackled his belt in frustration.

‘You can’t just get on top of me!’ he squeaked and looked back at the now closed partition.

‘How can you contain yourself, it’s been a week!’ she complained. ‘I’m clearly not doing my job here... losing my touch…’

Jenna frowned and pouted and then an idea seemed to strike her.  The belt undone, she went for his flies this time and suddenly dropped to the floor of the taxi. Peter stared at her in a mixture of horror and arousal as she did the fitting into tiny spaces thing again and released him quickly from his boxers. He was hard but not quite fully there but he had a feeling she was about to fix that particular problem. If he could shake the concern that he was essentially in public and there was a driver in front of them who…

Who had increased the volume of the radio subtly and who he was suddenly sure was keeping his eyes very much ahead. God, he would have to tip this guy. He had to stop Jenna too, he had no idea when they would arrive, but there would be a red carpet and at this rate he would be tipped out the cab with his trousers open and his erection hanging out of them.

Right ok this had to stop, he had to….

Jenna’s mouth closed around him and he almost hit the roof of the cab as the pleasure shot straight from the tip of his cock to somewhere deep and desperate for attention. He made an involuntary noise and his hips jerked before he could steady himself, twirl her soft hair in his fingers, look down at the picture she was making.

He could feel her massaging the base of his erection and his balls, pulling aside the fabric of his suit, laying her hot palms on his skin until he was growling with pleasure and whimpering when her teeth scraped the underside of his head. The combination of the absolute worship of him and the public venue for the intimate act had him climbing the walls minutes into it. He could feel himself starting to beg, uncertain if it was a plea to stop or finish him.

‘Jenna, I’m so close, you need to stop…’ she pulled back and looked at him, his heaving chest and flushed cheeks. He knew he must look a complete dishevelled state after running his hands through his hair and squirming on the seat. She grinned.

‘Sure you want me to stop?’ she asked.

He wasn’t sure of anything except the throb in his genitals, his leaking erection. He tried to get his breathing under control and glanced down to see a droplet fall from the tip of his cock and stain his trousers. Jenna caught the movement.

‘Because that doesn’t look suspicious,’ she said giggling at the white stain. He suddenly had a thought, a disturbing one.

‘Jenna we’re about to arrive, I can’t get out the car like this.’

‘True,’ she said ponderously. ‘So really we should make sure you don’t shock people when you do get out…’ her hand slid up the underside of him and he jerked, feeling himself leak some more into her palm as she dragged it over the tip. Peter let out an absolutely desperate moan and it seemed to spur her on suddenly. Jenna ducked back down and took him deep into her mouth.

He was quick to climb and quick to come, it only took a few thrusts to push him frantically over the edge. At the last second he realised he was about to spill into her mouth, without warning, and felt a wave of guilt, but she held him close to her and swallowed hard, kissing and licking until he was done.

‘See I’ve even spared your trousers more stains,’ she smiled up at him.

‘Dear God,’ he panted as she climbed up to sit by him. He pulled his clothes together and tucked his softening member back into his boxers praying it would soften quicker. Even zipped up again he looked aroused and he shifted in his seat trying to make it less obvious.

He was conscious of Jenna, sitting uncomfortably next to him, cheeks flushed. With a smile he had beckoned her over to him and slipped his hand under her skirt, pushed up again to where he had been touching before. She drew in a sharp, needy breath and leaned against him, kissing his neck softly. Peter found a rhythm she liked and pushed harder but as her breath started hitching the taxi drew to a halt.

‘Shit,’ Jenna said, ‘Shit, we’re here, I can’t….’

He could hear the crowds outside and cursed as Jenna moved away to tidy her skirts. They were seconds from the door opening and the cameras flashing again. She was fussing about but she was laughing too. His beautiful, special girl. He looked at her and felt his whole spirit lift.

It wasn’t ideal right now, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love her, that it couldn’t get better down the line. That it wasn’t worth doing.

He caught her eye and winked as he donned his shades again.

‘Make it up to you later…’ he said.

 

**NYCC October 2016.**

In the car his wife stared straight ahead or occasionally checked her phone for emails. She was busy on a new project, something which made life more bearable at home if she was absorbed. He would be filming again in a couple of days, he could survive until then. He always felt better in Wales; associated it with Jenna even when she wasn’t there.

He pictured her expression today, as he had been getting into the car and that made his heart sink. The time they had had was so brief, so risky and such fun; but it was over so fast and he hadn’t meant for that to happen. A screaming row with his wife and a phonecall from Jenna had directed his Fate. Both women unhappy, both trying to fix things in their own way.

He went back to his wife, but things didn’t feel the same as they always had, as they had been before the show. It was broken, forever.

He let Jenna go, to her new series, her new friends and her new boyfriend. That was the right thing to do, definitely the right thing to do.  She deserved better than what Peter could give her and that kept him going. She deserved happiness, and for a while he was convinced she was happy.

Until he saw her tonight and caught her eye, and realised that when he said he’d make it up to her, he’d failed. All their interlude had done was cause them pain, broken their friendship, ended everything that was good.

They left the venue separately, went back to their different, emptier, lives.

And Peter stared out the window of his car; watched a big yellow taxi drive by.

 

 

 


End file.
